If the World Gives Up
by ghostlywhitedirewolf
Summary: Bucky has a hard time realising that you just can't save everyone.


**If the World Gives Up  
>by<br>****ghostlywhitedirewolf**

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><p>AN: Literally I was thinking about this on my drive home from work today and to be fair it's a little bit more of an angsty fic than I do as a one-shot. But hey-ho. Also, sorry for my absence, I had a hell of a lot of work to do before I finished university for Christmas. I'm not totally done yet, but I needed a break from essay writing, so here I am! :)<p>

Come say hi on my tumblr: ghostlywhitedirewolf

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><p>It wasn't until Tony started shouting his name down the earpiece that he realised that there was something wrong.<p>

"Rogers, get over here. There's something wrong with Barnes."

"What's wrong with him? Is he hurt?" Steve asked, twisting the arm of the man he was wrestling with, hearing the crunch and cry of pain as the bone snapped.

"_He _isn't, um, hurt. Exactly. Just, Steve just get here quickly. We're on the north side of the building. Clint's on his way to deal with your perp." Tony informed him just as another body joined Steve.

"Rogers, go. I got this." Clint called and Steve nodded, turning to run in the direction that Tony had told him Bucky was.

Fear coiled in his stomach at the thought that Bucky might be hurt, a fear that increased as he caught sight of Sam and Tony standing over Bucky's huddled form, the broad shoulders of the Winter Soldier rigid.

It wasn't until Steve got closer that he noticed the body in Bucky's arms, noticed the small head of blonde hair and the red seeping into both of their clothing.

Steve inwardly cringed, stomach sinking further as he stood before Bucky, realising that the child was dead, blood seeping into her school uniform as civilians screamed around them.

"Buck?" Steve knelt down before him, deliberately not looking down at the face of the little girl, instead focusing on the man before him whose hands were shaking as he clutched the limp body to him. "Hey, Buck, c'mon. Bucky, she's gone, you have to let her go."

Bucky shook his head as Steve heard someone tell him that there was a paramedic there for the girl.

"Hey, Bucky, I'm going to take her and give her to the paramedic okay?" Steve moved forward and touched one hand to Bucky's arm and the other to the pulse point of the child, feeling the absence of a regular heartbeat.

The brunet was shaking, but allowed Steve to remove the girl from his arms, standing and watching as the other man passed her body to the paramedic who placed her gently onto a gurney. Steve watched as the paramedic checked the child's vitals before shaking his head, covering her with a blanket and loading her onto the ambulance.

He turned back to Bucky, the other man staring down at the blood that covered his shaking hands.

"Nat, we need the jet down here right now." Steve told her, moving slowly towards his best friend.

Bucky had seen death before, he had witnessed murder, but whatever had happened had caused him to shut down. Steve reached out to touch the other man's face, smoothing his hair back away from his eyes. "Hey, hey Buck. Are you hurt? Are you injured?"

Bucky shook his head against Steve's hand, still staring in horror at his hands as though confused by the red covering them.

"Okay, come on. We stopped them. They're dead." Steve tried to reassure him, stroking a thumb across the other man's cheek and breathing a sigh of relief as the jet appeared.

"Let's go Buck." Steve said, gently, snaking one hand around Bucky's shoulders and leading him towards the plane, concerned when Bucky wordlessly allowed himself to be manoeuvred.

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><p>The ex-assassin was silent all the way back to the tower, eyes blank as he stared at the floor in a way that Steve could only remember from when he had first found Bucky wandering around New York after the downturn of HYDRA.<p>

"Is he okay?" Sam asked, as Steve lead him off the jet and across to the elevator.

"M'fine." Bucky answered. "Still here remember?"

Steve hit a button on the elevator and the doors began to close around him and Bucky, feeling the brunet tense further once he was out of eyesight of the other Avengers.

Bucky moved first once the elevator arrived at their floor, staggering forwards, his breathing increasing as he clawed at his clothing, managing to pull off his shirt before Steve had the chance to grab his wrists.

"Bucky!" He said sharply, crowding himself into Bucky's personal space and holding the other man's hands to his chest in an attempt to subdue him as Bucky's breathing increased.

Bucky's shoulders heaved and he shook his head, making no effort to try to snatch his hands away from Steve. "I couldn't stop it. Fuck, she was so little. She was so scared, Steve and I promised– I promised that I'd get her out of there. I promised her. I promised..."

He broke off and looked up at Steve, eyes swimming with tears. He had only been on two missions with them before this, neither of them resulting in civilian casualties. Not like this one, which had been a bloodbath before they had even arrived. A gang of terrorists walking into the Metropolitan Museum of Art with concealed assault rifles before opening fire on the general public.

"Oh, Bucky." Steve mumbled softly, releasing Bucky's hands and pulling the brunet into his chest, wrapping his arms around his quivering shoulders.

Bucky let out a shaky breath and pressed his face into Steve's chest. "She was so little. She didn't deserve that, I promised her."

"I know you did Bucky. I know you did. But you have to know that you did your best. You did everything that you could, sometimes it just isn't enough." Steve pushed his nose into Bucky's still long hair, own eyes fogging as he recalled the same feeling as he clung to the side of a moving train, watching the man he now held in his arms fall to his supposed death.

It had taken a long time for Steve to be able to accept that Bucky's death hadn't been his fault. Some things are out of all control.

"I should have covered her better. I was too focused on the two men outside and I didn't notice the third. He wasn't like the others. He only had a handgun. He just came out of the crowd. Thought he was one of the civilians." Bucky gasped, flesh hand fisting into the material of Steve's uniform, leaving a red stain.

"I know, Buck. We had the same problem around the back. They were just coming out of nowhere. That wasn't your fault. I swear that it wasn't, you couldn't have predicted that." Steve started to lead Bucky backwards, the brunet pliant as he moved them towards the bathroom.

"The rest of her group were already dead. She was the only one left. I pulled her out–" Bucky paused as his booted feet hit the side of the bath, bending his knees to sink down onto the edge as Steve took his face between both palms. "–she was so scared. Crying for her Mom."

Bucky screwed his eyes shut and pressed his forehead against Steve's as the tears finally fell. "I heard the gunshot and she just collapsed. She was behind me. At first I thought he'd aimed for me and missed, but he hit her square in the chest. I just lost it. I just emptied my gun into him."

"It's okay, Bucky. What he did to her is indescribable. I don't know what kind of human being could do that knowingly to anyone, let alone a kid." Steve wiped away the tears, watching the blood on Bucky's face smudge, knowing that he had to get the other man clean.

"She was still alive when I got hold of her. I told her that help would be there soon and that she needed to hold on. She just got this look on her face. Like peace, I can't even describe it. She had hold of my metal arm and I felt her die, Steve. I've killed people in the past, but it was never like that. I actually felt her die. Felt her breath go. I couldn't do anything." Bucky was shaking as he spoke, words escaping around wracking sobs.

"I'm sorry, Bucky. I'm so, so sorry. You did everything you could. She knew that. Everyone knows that. You have to believe me, this wasn't your fault. You did absolutely everything you could have done for her." Steve repeated, wrapping one arm around Bucky's neck and letting the other man sob into his shoulder.

He glanced over Bucky's bare torso, noting the drying blood there as he ran his other hand up and down Bucky's lower back in a soothing motion.

Eventually the brunet calmed, tears running dry and body slackening against Steve's large frame.

"Bucky, I'm going to get you into the shower okay? We need to wash all this blood off of you. Is that okay?" Steve asked, not wanting to move without Bucky's permission.

The ex-assassin nodded, allowing Steve to tug off his remaining clothes and pull him into the over sized shower before turning on the faucet.

Bucky flinched and startled as the first spray of water hit his head but stilled at Steve's soothing reassurances of, "_it's okay_. _Shh you're alright._"

Steve, now clad in only his boxers, squirted some of the shower gel onto a loofah before running it over Bucky's chest and flesh hand. Getting the blood out of the grooves of his metal arm would be a job for either Bucky himself or Tony later, but Steve could get the majority of it off with just water. It concerned him that Bucky was so pliant under his hands, but as soon as his hands were clear of blood the brunet ran his hands up Steve's chest, his metal hand coming to rest against Steve's cheek whilst his flesh hand curled around his neck.

"Are _you_ hurt?" Bucky asked, eyes roaming over Steve's body where the bruises that told of the earlier combat were already starting to fade.

Steve shook his head, wiping the last of the blood off of Bucky's body, glad when the once pink water started to run clear. "No, I'm fine. When Tony told me, I thought you were hurt. God, I was so scared. I thought that it was you who had been hurt."

Bucky grimaced, chewing his lower lip and scrunching his nose up in a gesture that was so characteristically _him _that Steve almost wondered if HYDRA had even realised that they could never get rid of Bucky no matter what they did to him. "She had her whole life ahead of her. I could have taken the shot. It wouldn't have killed me. He knew that she'd have no chance."

Sighing, Steve shook his head. "People are sick, Bucky."

"Why couldn't I have saved her?" Bucky asked, hands waving as he spoke. "Why did he have to shoot her?"

"It's the worst part of what we do, the knowledge that we can't help everyone. That sometimes, no matter how much we want it, we can't stop everything from happening." Steve caught Bucky's flesh hand, entwining their fingers and squeezing gently.

"I fucking hate it. I hate them all." Bucky snapped and Steve knew that they weren't talking solely about the terrorists from today any more. "Anyone who wants to hurt others just to get what they want are sick."

"I know, Buck. I know. So we have to keep going. We have to carry on trying to stop them as best we can. Sometimes we win, sometimes, like today, we don't. But we keep trying." Steve replied, turning off the water and stepping out of the shower, pulling Bucky gently with him and handing him a towel to dry off.

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><p>Bucky was still tense when he finally joined Steve on their sofa, baggy shirt and sweat pants managing to hide the span of muscles beneath, but Steve could see the rigid set of his shoulders as the brunet curled into his side, resting his head on Steve's stomach and pretending to watch the show that was playing on the TV.<p>

He was quiet for a while, brow furrowed as he thought, sighing slightly when Steve began to card his fingers gently through his hair.

Eventually, Bucky spoke. "Hey, Stevie?"

"Yeah?"

"I know you said that we have to move on and look forward?" Bucky started, angling his head to peer up at Steve, pain still evident in his eyes. "Can we find out her name? I just– please? I want to give my condolences to her parents. Do you think that that would be okay? I want to apologise for not being able to save her."

Steve exhaled gently, running a thumb over Bucky's cheekbone. "You have nothing to be sorry for."

"But, can we? I just want to know who she was?" Bucky pleaded, hand clutching gently at Steve's shirt unconsciously.

"Of course, Buck." Steve leaned down to press his lips to the brunet's forehead. "I think that would be okay. I'll get Tony to look into it."

"Thank you." Bucky said, some of the tension leaving his body as he returned his face to Steve's chest.

Steve smiled gently, feeling the familiar tug of pain and sympathy in his chest as he watched Bucky's face soften, physical and psychological exhaustion eventually carrying him off to sleep. He hadn't changed at all. Still carrying blame that wasn't his to bear and trying to protect everyone.

He ran his hand through Bucky's hair again, lips quirking as Bucky nosed into his stomach, metal hand seeking out Steve's other hand and holding it.

Steve shifted slightly into a more comfortable position, the movement jostling Bucky, but the brunet didn't appear to wake.

"Sleep tight, Buck." He whispered.

"Love you, punk." Bucky murmured sleepily, lips moving to press a lazy kiss against the blond's stomach.

"Love you too Bucky."

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